


A Present for the Prince

by Kaoru_chibimaster



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday, FFXV kinkmeme, Gen, gladio is very amused, low key so is regis, non explicit prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoru_chibimaster/pseuds/Kaoru_chibimaster
Summary: At this point, it ought to be tradition for the heir to the throne to have a custom car thrown at him (not literally, of course).





	A Present for the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9329291#cmt9329291) which I honestly had wanted to write before now but hadn't had the motivation to, so my thanks to the OP.

Another day, another meeting.

Just like every other day for Regis, honestly. Just like every day for the past thirty odd years. He'd long since learned to hide his boredom with each affair. He'd fallen too far into his routine to do much of anything else. Every morning was the same: wake up to a dozen people screaming his name, go over with Cor on what was going on inside the wall, go over with Drautos on what was going on outside the wall, go over with Clarus on everything else. Meetings before nine, paperwork until noon, lawmaking and bill approval before supper, more meetings until bed time. The occasional public appearance and _maybe_ he'd actually enjoy a meal at some point during the day. Every once in a while something special would happen. Today, for example, was Noct's birthday, which was joyous for Regis in and of itself, but he wouldn’t get to spend it with his son. He remembered the day Noctis was born. There had been a lot of crying and screaming, mostly on Regis' part and decidedly less on Noct and Aulie's parts, but Regis had held that black haired, red faced baby in his arms and everything was suddenly right with the world.

He wouldn’t even be able to watch his son turn twenty.

Gods, but it was a depressing thought. Regis caught himself slumping, correcting his posture at the quiet sound of Clarus' throat clearing, dismayed at the thought of being stuck in this stuffy meeting room with this group of stuffy council members instead of spending that time with his boy celebrating. There'd be a party later, a formal event held every year for every royal family member, because of course there would. It was expected. It'd require a formal speech out of Regis, commemorating his son for reaching twenty—of all things…even for a Caelum that wasn’t much of a feat—and then he'd be dragged away by throngs of people congratulating _him_ for Noctis turning a year older. When they weren’t hounding Noctis, that is. What would it matter when he'd barely see glimpses of his own child for the rest of the night?

He couldn’t afford to complain, however. His duties as king included appearing strong for his people, including the ones arguing across a table before him like a group of toddlers fighting over a toy. Unfortunately. He had no choice, however. And so he waited, and he listened, and he bid everyone rise when the majority of the council came to a begrudging agreement on whatever pointless thing they argued over. Some sort of inner city issue that Regis had already gone over with his advisors on how to solve weeks ago. He was certain it wasn’t even actually an issue anymore. The council, of course, found some way to make it so. They grumbled as they rose from their seats, Clarus offering his arm as an anchor while Regis rose from his, before the sound of hustle and bustle met everyone's ears.

Regis raised an eyebrow at Clarus. “Any idea what the commotion could be?”

Clarus grunted, a displeased sound that meant he didn’t know but was ready to find out. He did exactly that as he pulled out his phone and dialed one of his contacts. He didn’t wait long for that answer.

“Gladiolus. I assume you know what's going on?”

There was a silent period as Gladiolus spoke to Clarus, explaining the situation. Amusingly enough, Clarus' own eyebrow rose in bemusement.

“Is that so?” he asked. An affirmative on the other line, Regis presumed, as Clarus nodded once. “We'll be right there then.”

The call ended then as Clarus turned that bemused look on Regis.

“Your son's gotten into some sort of nonsense once again,” he mumbled before turning to address the room at large. “Excuse us, the king and I have urgent business to attend to.”

As the council cleared out, Regis puzzled over what this could have meant. Clarus didn’t seem particularly alarmed, so it was unlikely there was trouble. Noctis rarely got himself into trouble, but when he did…he really did. Regis still remembered the Umbra incident rather clearly. Everyone did. This didn’t seem to be that either however, as Regis was only just hearing about this now rather than a crownsguard or a glaive interrupting the meeting. There were a number of servants running here and there, as well as a few crownsguard rushing towards the Citadel entrance, but no one seemed panicked. Only…irritated?

What was going on?

“Any idea what sort of trouble this might be?” Regis asked, his hand tight around his cane handle as he tried to keep up with Clarus' long strides. He'd hoped his shield wouldn’t notice but…who was he kidding, of course Clarus would notice. Clarus slowed down a bit to ensure he was beside Regis and not ahead of him, answering him with an exasperated sigh.

“No clue. Gladio was laughing so I’m assuming nothing too serious.”

“Laughing?”

“I’m as baffled as you are, Regis.”

The anticipation was causing more stress to Regis than the actual walk was. His imagination filled in blanks in all sorts of wild ways and he hoped to himself that there wouldn’t be too big of a mess to clean up.

Despite his worries though…there wasn’t much of a mess in the first place. As Regis and Clarus descended the stairs in front of the Citadel, they found a disorganized array of crownsguard questioning a number of frazzled members of the press and workers in jumpsuits. They crowded in a group around a sleek looking car with a large blue bow atop it. And just before that, at the bottom of the stairs stood a smaller collection of people. Noctis stood at the center, rubbing the back of his head quizzically. He was flanked by Gladiolus, Ignis and Cor, the latter two of which stood disapprovingly with their arms crossed as the former watched on with a laughter-shaken frame. Regis could guess why they all held such reactions. In front of them, two people stood arguing vehemently with one another. Their argument became clearer the closer Regis got to them.

“—if you’re group of muscle bound oafs hadn’t ruined the surprise!”

 “We'd have been here all night getting caught up in security checks if we'd had it your way! Do you know how tight security is during royal parties?!”

“Well now we're here all morning being made fools of in front of the press!”

“The only fool I see here is you!”

“Nonsense! Else I’d be holding a mirror!”

Regis watched as a slim, graying man in a suit bickered with a short, colorfully dressed woman who'd managed to dye her honeycomb hair bright pink. They both looked like fools as far as Regis was concerned, screaming at one another on the steps of the Citadel. In fact, they almost seemed to have a comedy routine going with how they insulted one another. No wonder Gladiolus found it so amusing.

“Need I ask what's going on?” Regis half-whispered as he finally entered the fray. Noctis only looked mildly surprised when he turned at the sound of Regis' voice, shrugging in confusion.

“Apparently I’m receiving a birthday gift? I guess that's what they intended when they came here before… _this_ happened,” Noctis answered, motioning towards the quibbling pair. They hadn’t even noticed that they were in the presence of their king, so caught up in their disagreement, and this seemed to be the last straw for Clarus.

“What nonsense is this,” his voice boomed, “that you come before your prince and your king with petty squabbles? State your purpose here!”

Both squeaked in surprise and fear at the sound of Clarus' tone, eyes widening in awe at not only Regis' presence but, interestingly enough, Noctis' as well.

“Goodness! Your Highness! Y-your…Your Majesty! I hadn’t even…we didn’t notice—!”

“Our deepest, sincerest apologies, Your Graces, we hadn’t known you were—!”

Stumbling through their apologies, the two visitors, alongside the majority present, dropped into deep bows. Regis held up a hand and struggled to keep the amused smirk off of his face.

“I believe you were both asked to state your purpose here,” Regis said calmly. It was obvious why they were there, but Regis needed to hear this for himself. These were a bunch of strangers causing a commotion on his doorstep after all.

“Certainly,” the woman babbled, “Certainly, Your Majesty, of course! Yes, yes I am Valentina Fabula, director of the Insomnian division of the Royal Art Society of Lucis, the largest division if I must say so myself—”

“And I am Rampert Studler, CEO and chairman of the board of Audi Insomnia—” One of the crownsguard, Monica, stepped forward and interrupted them both, saluting as she bowed once again.

“Your Majesty. We were informed that the Art Society and the Audi company have collaborated to present a custom car for His Highness' birthday. The retinue has been thoroughly put through security check and we have found no danger.”

This sent the two suits in a tizzy, tripping over themselves to prove they were no threat.

“Wh-what?! We would never!”

“To suggest we would attempt to harm the prince!”

“Our love for the royal family knows no bounds!”

“We assure you, Your Majesty, our intentions here are pure!”

“Just like that ass kissing they’re giving you, Highness. Nice and pure,” Gladiolus could be heard mumbling to Noctis, snickering all the while. Noctis not-so-subtly nudged him with an elbow. Regis ignored the exchange, addressing the suits once again.

“If that is the case, we graciously extend our gratitude for such a marvelous gift.”

Which was a cue for Noctis to say thank so everyone could be on their way. He picked up on it quickly.

“Uh, yeah,” Noctis cleared his throat, straightening his stance and correcting himself. “Yes. I greatly appreciate this gift you are offering forth. It's an incredibly thoughtful gift and I gladly accept it.”

Of course it wasn’t actually thoughtful, it was flattery and advertisement and Noctis knew this. But the press was here listening to their every word and Noctis played his role well. Maybe Regis couldn’t quite hide the grin this time. Thankfully the suits seemed to take it as joy rather than amusement, and they all but lost their composure drowning Noctis in praise and gratitude for accepting their gift. No doubt the headlines would express how kind and accepting the royal family was and droves of people would be clamoring for Audis and signing up with the Art Society by the next day.

Both the director and the CEO continued bowing and lathering on the praise as thickly as possible as Noctis walked towards his new car, Regis following behind slowly as a slew of memories flashed before his eyes. The sight of a brand new Regalia at the Citadel steps, Clarus admiring it as he ran his hands over the leather seats, Cid immediately popping the hood to see what he could tinker with, Weskham sitting in the driver’s seat and gripping the wheel with dreamy eyes, and Aulea lounging in the backseat as she listed off places they could drive off to in it. It wasn’t a birthday present but Regis had been in awe of it all the same. It was sleek, beautiful, powerful, top of the line, and it belonged to him. Regis watched as the same emotion shined in his son's eyes, Gladiolus whistling appreciatively as he ran a hand over the coated metal, Ignis circling the car with a critical yet impressed eye, Cor and Clarus admiring the car from afar, and Regis reminisced in the past that had been brought back to the forefront of his mind. He'd planned on passing the Regalia to his son, still did, but for now he watched and smiled as Noctis' eyes lit up with excitement. He closed the door and laid an arm over the window frame, the other hand gripped around the wheel. The car hadn’t been started yet, not since it'd been rolled in front of the Citadel, but Regis knew it wouldn’t take long for Noct to change that. He placed a hand upon the arm atop the window frame.

“Ready to take her for a spin?” Regis asked, grinning at the childlike glee in his son's expression. Oh, how well Regis knew that feeling.

“You bet! And here I thought today’d be as mundane as every other birthday.”

That…wasn’t as exciting to hear, but Regis also knew that feeling well. He'd strive to at least spend a few moments with Noctis later that night during the birthday celebration.

“Here's to hoping it continues to be exciting then,” Regis chuckled instead.

“I’m sure it will be if His Highness doesn’t crash his new car,” Ignis quipped under his breath, somewhere to Regis' right. The sound of Gladiolus snorting followed. Noctis sent them both an annoyed look before returning his attention to Regis.

“If it's anything like this morning, I’m sure it will be. And,” he quickly added. “I won’t crash. Promise.”

“I should hope so.” Regis would cross his fingers. Noct's driving habits were…inconsistent at best. “I expect to see you tonight then. Injury free.” That last part was stressed.

“You got it, Dad,” he replied absently, already turning the key and fiddling with the dashboard. Regis stepped away at the purr of engine, walking back to the steps and watching as Noct's friends slipped into the car as well before he pulled off. The press was shooed out of the driveway, pushed back by the crownsguard, before the gates were opened and Noctis drove off.

“How much do you want to bet he hits a lamppost before he gets back?”

Regis snorted. “Clarus I’m not betting you on that. I either have faith in him or I win the bet, there can only be one or the other.”

“In other words, you’re on my side.”

Regis only rolled his eyes at that, turning towards the building entrance and hobbling back up the steps. It'd be back to the same mundane routine until night fell, but at least there had been an acceptable distraction to it all. It'd perked up the king's spirits enough to get him through the rest of the day. Then he could properly wish his son a happy birthday.


End file.
